


The Crow and the Butterfly

by Dreadful_Penny



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreadful_Penny/pseuds/Dreadful_Penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, the King of all goblins kidnapped a baby and his big sister.  He challenged the girl to a game to win back her baby brother.  To the King's shock, he lost.  </p><p>The fey don't take losing very well.  Nor do they give up all that easily. </p><p>*****</p><p>When Sarah was 15, she had the strangest nightmare ever.  When she was 19, tragedy derailed her entire life.  Now, more than a decade has passed and she has mostly recovered.  </p><p>Until Jareth comes for a rematch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If At First You Don't Succeed

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the work is from the Shinedown song by the same name. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody likes to lose. Powerful kings of illusion REALLY hate to lose. Revenge? Is just the logical solution.

The day before the rain came to the Underground wasn't special for any one reason. It was special because it was the last day. That's all. The sun, as muted as it was in some parts, was remembered as being the brightest it had ever been. Older goblins told fairy tales of the last girl who had come through and her defiant refusal to join the King. The first in centuries, they whispered. She won back the child and refused the King. That hadn't happened in a long time. Maybe it never had.

That night, after the battle through the city and the mysterious fog that had enveloped the King's castle, most of the goblins and other denizens of the Underground had hidden away in their homes and hovels, too afraid to leave.

The next day, the rain came. 

It had rained before in the Underground. Sprinkles here and there, torrential downpours that quickly dissipated (mostly when the King was cross). This rain was different. It was steady and cold, much colder than anyone could remember. The trash pickers especially despaired. How, they wailed, could they find any treasure when everything was getting constantly rained upon and ruined. Eventually they, too, fled to their burrows. 

The fog that surrounded the castle had dissipated a little. It lifted enough to reveal that the castle was still standing, if perhaps in a slightly different formation than it was before the last Girl had come through. That hadn't happened in a long time, either. The last time that the Girl got through the city and to the castle, it had remade itself, of course, but the King had emerged the next day with a new Prince and a new Lady Queen in Waiting. There had been no rain and the King had declared a festival in his new Lady's honor. The sun had been brilliant that day, croaked the oldest grandmother goblin in the village. Flowers had bloomed. Birds had somehow appeared to sing. Many of the rarely-seen Lords and Ladies had ridden through the town in a makeshift parade to the castle to attend the actual ball and coronation for the new Lady Queen. 

Not this time.

This time, the cold rain. It leaked mercilessly through the thatched-roof cottages and the more makeshift dwellings that the goblins lived in. It was too cold to do any benefit to their proud gardens and orchards. After ten days of nothing but icy rain, the farmers began to despair of their current crop of goblin fruit. If the goblin fruit wouldn't grow, how were any of the fey to entice children into their courts? One of the farmers stormed into the castle to have a word with the King. He was never seen nor heard from again. It was rumored that the palace staff had tried to reason with the King. Several new stone statues had appeared in the palace courtyard shortly after that rumor began to spread. Some said that they spotted one of the other Lords riding to the palace to attempt to speak to the King. Nothing changed. The days stretched into weeks. 

Several of the goblins met together with the maze-guards and the dwarves. It was decided that an emissary must visit the King and plead for his mercy one last time. A dwarf-maid named Milly was chosen to brave the castle and speak to the King. It was said that he was marginally less violent with the dwarves, particularly with the dwarf-maids. Goblin seamstresses and cobblers came to scrub and groom the dwarf-maid, and then outfitted Milly with the finest that they had to offer. Three fairies that had inexplicably shown up at the meeting darted in and began to braid Milly's long, beige hair into an elaborate design. Finally, she was ready. A hob that worked in the castle took her hand and transported her to just inside the castle door. The entire castle was dark and silent. Only a quarter of the torches that usually lit the castle were burning. The rest were cold and dead. Milly shivered, but bravely began to make her way to the throne room. She had been here before on behalf of the dwarves. Finding the way to the throne room was difficult in the near-darkness though. She took at least two wrong turns before she found her way to her destination. The throne room was equally dark and cold. Two torches flickered, one on either side of the room. Two large, fat candles were also lit, but they added more shadows than they chased away. A hunched figure was sitting in the throne. This was troubling in and of itself. King Jareth never slumped, slouched or even merely sat in the throne. He lounged, rested, or commanded the room. He was also usually impeccably dressed. Today, he wore an old grey, feathered cloak and threadbare grey leggings. He even had on grey boots. He looked old and tired for the first time that Milly could remember. The ageless, perfect goblin King appeared to have gained decades in just the few short weeks since he had appeared in the square to announce that another Girl would be attempting to solve his riddles and puzzles.

Milly sank into a deep curtsey. "My Lord," she began. He looked up at her with cold, unreadable eyes. She shivered. "My Lord," she said, "I am sorry to disturb you. But we were worried. You've never sent such cold, harsh rain onto us for so long before. The fruit is starting to die and the orchard-keepers and farmers are frightened that they will lose the entire crop." He closed his eyes as if exhausted. He motioned for her to rise.

"Let them," he said flatly. "It doesn't matter."

"But my Lord, we rely on the children that the fruit brings to us and the money that we make from selling to the other Lords and Ladies! What are we to do if there is no fruit this season?"

"It doesn't matter," he said again. "I'm fairly certain that I'm finished with this life." He opened his eyes to meet hers again. "Do you know what she did?" he asked in a conversational tone. "Can you even begin to guess?"

"She won back the child, yes," Milly said nervously. "It's happened before." 

"Not like this," Jareth said. "She was defiant and fierce. She was beautiful and terrible all at once, and she bested me in a way that none other have before. She was magnificent. And still a child in so many ways herself! I took her to the shadow ball, you know."

Milly hadn't known, but she nodded in what she hoped looked like sympathy. "I've heard that the shadow balls are wondrous to behold," she offered. No dwarves were permitted but some of the Hobs had served or cooked for the balls before. They told stories of magic and debauchery that only the High Lords and Ladies were permitted to indulge in. 

"I've never taken one of the Girls to the shadow ball. I give them the goblin fruit and they dream beautiful dreams, usually enough to distract them for the duration of the challenge. But this one was special. I gave her a peach."

"A peach!" Milly exclaimed before she could stop herself. "My Lord, those are…"

"The most potent. The rarest. The highest honor that one could give to a human. They give the most lovely visions, you know. They never give lies, though, as so many of the other fruits do. They…soften the edges." Jareth seemed so lost in thought that Milly wasn't certain he realized that she was still there.

"I have never tried a peach, my Lord," Milly said. "But I know of their power and how precious they are."

"I gave her a peach, and conjured the most lovely finery that the seer-seamstress plucked directly from the Girl's own head. I showed her the High Lords and Ladies. I danced with her. She was in the palm of my hand and then she somehow slipped my grasp. This has never happened. This Girl, this Sarah…I am intrigued by her. I am fascinated by her." He paused and seemed to consider his thoughts for a moment. "I am utterly besotted. By a human girl! I should have been able to charm her into my chambers from the moment that she first laid eyes upon me." He closed his eyes again. "But I failed."

Milly swallowed and tried to think of something to say that would not result in the King losing his temper. A small part of her whispered that if he would lose his temper, it might be a pleasant change from this defeated, depressed shell of a man. "Perhaps you could try again?" she suggested timidly. 

Jareth's eyes flew open and seemed to light up. "That, my fair dwarven maid, is not a bad idea." His forehead wrinkled as he thought about it. "It would have to be a different game this time. A different challenge. She bested the Labyrinth much too easily the last time, thanks to her no-good band of traitorous friends. Flim! Thar!" Two guards clanked into the room and saluted. "Bring me the traitors from whatever oubliette that they were tossed in. I think I've a use for them after all." 

"My Lord, about the rain and the fruit…" Milly began again. He waved at her dismissively. 

"Done," he replied. "The precious fruit is safe. And the rain must have made at least a few of the goblins smell better." He stood and stalked towards a far wall. A door appeared just before he reached it. "I've more important things to worry about right this moment." He paused just before the door. "Have an assortment of jam sent to the laboratory. I believe it will prove to be very useful for what I have in mind."

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Dangerous Illusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks before Sarah's 20th birthday, on Halloween night, all is right with the world. The past remains in the past, and everyone has agreed that it was all just a bad dream.
> 
> Unless it wasn't.

_October 31, 2007_

Sarah squinted at her computer screen, trying to decipher the arcane scrawl. Clearly, the writer had not been terribly concerned about whether or not their words were legible to anyone. It was a puzzle, really. She enlarged the image on her screen with a few mouse clicks. Finally! 

"Miss?" 

Sarah ignored the voice. She was on the verge of a breakthrough. Interruption was not in the plan. 

"Hey!" 

Sarah suppressed the urge to sigh or roll her eyes. She closed out of the prescription that she had been trying to type, plastered her very best fake smile on her face and turned towards the glowering customer. "I'm sorry, sir. Welcome to Greenwal's. How may I help you be well today?" 

"I need U-100s." 

"I'm sorry, sir?" Sarah widened her eyes. "What is it that you were wanting? I'm not sure that I understand." 

"Needles, I wanna buy a box of needles." Sarah swallowed and counted to ten. "Of course sir." She walked behind the partition and returned with a box. “These?” she indicated a box of insulin syringes. The thin, dirty-looking man nodded emphatically. He thrust a driver's license and a twenty dollar bill at Sarah almost immediately. This time she allowed herself the faintest smirk. "Look how prepared you are!" Sarah said sweetly. "Most people don't already have their ID and money already out of their wallet and ready to pay. And you're from Winchester! How are you enjoying our lovely town?" she said with a wide smile. 

The thin man's eyes widened. "I'm working here," he said. "I'm a contractor." Sarah silently took in the man's gaunt form, dirty fingernails, shorts and flip-flops. She suppressed an urge to quiz the man on what, precisely, a contractor did. 

"Of course," she said instead. "Here's your change, sir. Enjoy the rest of your day." She let the false smile drop from her face as the man turned and scurried out of the pharmacy's lobby. She began to count silently. At fifty-seven another dirty, emaciated figure clutching a twenty dollar bill and an ID rounded the corner. She puffed out a quick sigh and then plastered her corporate mask back into place. She glanced up at her computer screen. There were fifteen prescriptions to be typed, and then they would be need to be filled so that the pharmacist could verify them. This was on top of the other twenty-three prescriptions that were already printed and waiting to befilled. And of course, the other technician was out sick today. "It never ends," she whispered. Three more hours, she thought. I can make it three more hours. 

***** 

Three hours and twenty minutes later, Sarah unlocked her apartment door and walked into her dimly lit home. A small lamp glowed from a battered end table. It did little to light the room, seeming instead to cast frightening-looking shadows over the Goodwill-issue couch that Sarah had brought home a few weeks prior. The rest of the apartment was dark. "Hello?" Sarah called softly. "Andi?" A faint yowl answered her from her bedroom. Moments later, a lithe, blue-point Siamese cat strolled out from the bedroom. She yawned and then shook her head slightly as if trying to wake herself up. "When will you learn to turn the lights on for mummy, hmm?" Sarah said as she knelt on the carpet. The cat strolled over to Sarah and bumped her head against Sarah's outstretched hand. "Never mind that, when will you go out and get a job so that mummy can cut back on her hours?" The cat purred, content to be receiving attention from her devoted thumbbeast. "Worthless creature," Sarah said. She sat the rest of the way down on the floor and obligingly made a lap for the cat to settle in. She felt the stress of the day soften and melt away as she stroked her cat's soft fur. "Good girl," she murmured. "Shall we get dinner?" The cat lifted her head, stared at Sarah for a moment and then rose and bounded towards the kitchen. 

The kitchen decor was as sparse and gently worn as the living room. The battered kitchen table and one chair had come with the apartment. Sarah had rescued a second chair from a curb. After cleaning everything thoroughly she had painstakingly painted the hand-me-down furniture and sewn cushions for the two chairs. The dish towels, dishes and most of the other kitchenware had been purchased at the same Goodwill that had once housed Sarah's couch. 

Sarah scooped a cup of kibble out for Andromeda and filled the cat's bowl with fresh water. She studied the contents of her fridge for a moment before deciding that a light snack was all she wanted for herself. Cheese and crackers it would be. Again. She sat down at the table with a small chunk of cheddar and a box of Ritz crackers. Her doorbell buzzed, followed by a chorus of children shouting "Trick or treat!" She ignored them. Never mind that she hadn't flicked on the light outside her apartment door. Never mind that it was nearly midnight. It was Halloween and the children of Sarah's neighborhood were determined to snag every possible piece of candy that they could get their hands on. Halloween. How she loathed it. Sarah sliced cheese into precise little squares and centered them as exactly as she could on the little round crackers. The children would go away eventually. 

A tapping sound begged to differ. Sarah stifled a small scream and stood up to go shout at the children to go away then froze in her tracks. There was a faint, flickering glow coming from the window. It looked as if somebody was holding a lit candle just outside of her apartment. Her second floor apartment. 

***** 

_October 29, 1991_

"You got a package.  A lady brought it to the house from a pie store.  Bakery, Mommy says it's called bakery." 

"Really?  I didn't know we had a bakery." 

"Mommy says it's new.  Mommy says, want us to save it for you in the freezer?" Toby asked. 

"Nah," Sarah said.  "You and Mom and Dad can have it.  What is it?" 

"What are they called?" Toby whispered to, presumably, his mother who was waiting nearby.  "Mom says they're tarts." 

"Huh.  Ok, see if Mom will freeze one of them for me and you guys have the rest, OK?  Is Dad around?" 

"Yep.  Love you sissy!  _DADDY!"_   A thunk echoed through the phone.  A second later Sarah's stepmother picked up the phone. 

"Sorry about that, dear." Despite being married to Sarah's father for several years, Irene was still rather formal with her stepdaughter.  "Your father will be right along, I'm sure.  I will certainly have Marisol wrap up and freeze one of those lovely tarts for you.  I'm not sure I've ever seen any so intricately decorated before.  Well, do take care, Sarah.  We shall see you at Thanksgiving, I'm sure." 

_October 31, 1991_

A deep, dignified chime filled the air in the library.  Sarah glanced up from her biology notes to squint at the large clock that graced a pillar near the table she had been studying at all evening.  She really ought to start wearing her glasses, she thought.  Fortunately, she was close enough to the clock to be able to make out the time.  It was a quarter to midnight.  The library would remain open but Sarah wasn't certain she'd be able to stay awake much longer.  Between the chilly air and her intense study of the metabolic cycle it had been a struggle to keep her eyes open for at least the last hour. She started tucking her belongings into her backpack and going over a mental checklist of what she needed to do the next day. Thursdays were generally light; only one class before noon and an afternoon lab. Nevertheless, there was always studying to do. Midterms had just finished but Sarah knew better than to slack off. Her biochemistry class offered weekly quizzes. Her two biology classes required extensive reading. And the lab reports. Always, always the lab reports. The one literature course Sarah had picked that year, The Age of Romanticism, almost seemed like fun compared to the other three classes. Sure, it was heavy on the reading and writing, but at least there were no true exams. There were periodic quizzes if Professor Patel felt that the class had perhaps not read the assignment as thoroughly as possible, but largely, the grades came from essays and research papers. 

Sarah zipped up her backpack and shrugged into a jacket. The southwestern Virginia fall wasn’t as chilly as she had been used to but it was still too cold to go around without at least a light jacket. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and started weaving her way towards the front door. She glanced towards the circulation desk as she passed and smiled to herself. The student on duty was reading a book that Sarah recognized almost immediately. She walked towards the desk to say hello. “Enjoying the book?” she asked the student librarian. 

“Very much!” the girl said enthusiastically. She slipped a bookmark into place and set it down. “I’ve always been fascinated with the Tam Lin ballad, and Pamela Dean is a wonderful writer. Have you read it?” 

“Yes! I read it over the summer before I came back to school. Not much time for fun reading right now, unfortunately.” 

“I hear you on that,” the other girl said. “I really SHOULD be reading _Sense and Sensibility_ right now, but I just can’t. I love Austen, but I just can’t right now.” 

Sarah grinned. “You can’t read too much Austen,” she teased. “I’m Sarah, by the way.” 

“Emily,” the other girl said. “I’m usually here on Wednesday and Saturday nights. Maybe I’ll have finished this by the time I work again. I see you in here studying all of the time.” 

“Pre-med,” Sarah said ruefully. “A scientist’s work is never done. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest of your book!” 

“Thanks! Have fun trick-or-treating!” 

“I wish!” Sarah said. “Goodnight!” 

She gave a little wave as she turned to leave. She was sure that Toby had done well trick-or-treating that night. She made a mental note to call home tomorrow and let him tell her all about his adventures gathering candy. A part of her was wistful that she wasn’t around to watch her half-brother growing up and becoming aware of things like Halloween and the joys it could bring. No matter. She would be home for Thanksgiving break in just a few short weeks, and then home for winter break just a few weeks after that. Plenty of time at Christmas to talk up Santa and elves. 

Well. Maybe just Santa. If she thought about it too much, the idea of elves left her a little uneasy. She HAD enjoyed Pamela Dean’s novel, until the end threw rather more about fairytales than she felt comfortable with. Tossing out her imagination-fueled childhood hadn’t been easy but it was something that she had felt deeply compelled to do after the night of The Dream. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? All just a big, intricate DREAM. 

At least, that was what the doctor had said. Sarah had agreed that this was probably the case, accepted the bottle of pills that Irene had brought home from the pharmacy, and dutifully written in the dream journal that the doctor requested for several years. The journal no longer remained a part of her life but the pills still were and, she had long ago realized (albeit reluctantly), probably always would be. In fact, it was nearly time for the next dose. Sarah quickened her steps towards her dorm. The October night was cold and gusty. She could hear the faint noise of various Halloween parties coming from different corners of the school. Her trip around the quad gave her a fair idea of what many of her classmates were up to. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been invited to any of the parties; she had politely declined to come to most of them. The only one that she was considering was a movie night that her friend Kate was hosting in her private room. They were watching _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ and people had been invited to show up as their favorite character. “Since,” Kate had said, “it’s cheaper than going to see it at The Grandin tonight. Besides, I don’t feel like picking rice out of my hair.” 

Sarah breathed in deep, taking in the scents of bonfires and leaves. Her dorm was on the far side of campus, away from the library. As she made her way home, the sounds of Halloween parties died down to nothing. The only sounds were Sarah’s own footsteps and the wind. For a moment. Suddenly the sound of hoofbeats broke the near-stillness of the night. Her eyes widened as she looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. It wasn’t uncommon to hear horses thundering around at Hollins, but at this hour? Of course there was nothing to see. What did you expect, she scolded herself. You’re hearing things. 

Smelling things, too, she thought. Why else would she smell blackberries and candle wax? A shiver chased its way down Sarah’s spine as she started to jog towards her dorm. She had never been so glad to see the softly glowing building before. 

“Shut up brain shut up brain shut up,” Sarah chanted as she jogged. She slowed to a walk as she came up to the door. “Shut up, brain,” she said again. She climbed the steps to her second floor room. Kate’s door was propped open and the sound of the movie leaked into the hall. It was time to do the Time Warp again. “Oh, damn,” Sarah said. She hurried to her friend’s door and stopped to laugh. Kate and four of their friends were attempting do do the titular dance in the extremely enclosed space of Kate’s room. Sarah waited till the song was over and everyone had collapsed dramatically around the room. Or at least as dramatically as possible, considering that Melissa had collapsed into a desk chair and Lynn was leaning against a bookcase. Sarah applauded. Kate scrambled for the VCR’s remote and paused the film. 

“At last!” she cried. “Hurry up and toss your stuff. We’ll wait for you to come back. I made these savages save you some chips and dip and Rona made cupcakes.” 

“We have candy bags, too,” Melissa said, adjusting the maid’s cap she wore on top of her frizzy, brown head. “And beer.” 

“Of course you do,” Sarah said. “OK, I’ll just be a second. She hurried down the hall to her room on the end. She unlocked her door and stepped in to toss her backpack and kick off her shoes. She was shrugging out of her jacket when she noticed a glowing at the window. 

“Huh,” she murmured. “Seeing things again,” she said. She moved towards the window, which was straight across from her door. She pulled the curtain back and gasped.  
A small, blue fairy was hovering just outside the glass, its arms wrapped around a thick candle. It grinned widely then stuck its tongue out when it saw Sarah. Sarah jumped back, a shriek escaping her throat before she could catch herself. She had held onto the curtain and could see the fairy still making hideous faces at her. Now it was showing a row of razor-sharp looking teeth while it appeared to cackle. Sarah screamed again and turned to flee the room. Her previous shriek had brought her friends running and they were all crowding into the room before she could leave. One of them threw the overhead light on. 

“What the hell!” Natasha shouted. “Are you OK?! I bet they heard you on the other side of the city.” 

“I s-saw some-th-thing,” Sarah stuttered. She wrapped her arms around herself. She was so cold all of a sudden. “There was…a THING…my window…there was a THING and it had a candle and sharp teeth and” she stopped talking. The coldness that had enveloped her took over and all she could do was shake. Kate stepped forward and hugged her friend tight. 

“Rona,” Kate said softly, “check the window, please.” 

“Already there,” Rona said, and she was. She knelt on Sarah’s empty desk and pulled the curtains back suddenly, as if to catch whatever might be there by surprise. 

There was nothing there. 

Of course there was nothing there, Sarah thought. Because you were seeing things earlier. And smelling things. Sarah felt tears start to well up. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I thought…I thought there was a THING and…I’m sorry” she sobbed. Kate hugged her again. 

“It’s OK. We’re all a little stressed right now. Want to sleep in my room tonight?” 

“I think yes.”  
  
“Good. I’ll wait while you grab your PJs. Do you still feel like watching the movie?” 

“Yeah,” Sarah sniffed. The tears were starting to wind down. “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” 

“Good,” Kate said. “Me too. Tim Curry in fishnets is never a bad idea.” 

Sarah pulled a pair of pajamas out of one of her drawers and her shower kit from the top of her dresser. Somebody turned the overhead light off. Sarah followed her friends out of the room without a backward glance. 

If she had looked, she might have seen the tiny, twin handprints that glowed on the window, even through the curtain. 

END CHAPTER TWO


End file.
